


Quietly, As Requested

by shiftylinguini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Getting Together, Humor, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Movie Night, Post-Hogwarts, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, cocksandjoggers mini fest 2017, forced silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 06:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/pseuds/shiftylinguini
Summary: Harry was trying to pretend Draco’s warm thigh against his own didn’t make his heart thump and his cock start to fill out inside his usual lazy Sunday attire ― which consisted of a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and the world’s oldest, rattiest, ugliest and most comfortable pair of joggers. In comparison, Draco was wearing a buttoned up shirt and a pair of crisp, black trousers, which made him both seem impressively attractive and also entirely overdressed for this kind of occasion. Harry lifted one knee, trying to shield the view of his slightly tenting joggers, and the state he was rapidly finding himself in.Perhaps inviting Draco to Sunday Bad Movie night at Ron’s wasn’t that smart an idea after all.





	Quietly, As Requested

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the very first and very inspiring [cocksandjoggers mini fest](http://cocksandjoggers.livejournal.com/)! 
> 
> Wonderful thanks to the lovely Aibidil for looking this over. I fiddled with it a bit since then, so all remaining mistakes are mine!

*

“This is going to be awful,” Draco deadpanned, looking at Harry sideways.

“This is going to be fun!” Harry folded his legs on the sofa as they sat side by side. Draco rolled his eyes, then stole the bowl of popcorn off Harry. 

“Awful,” Draco repeated. 

“Draco.” Harry wiped his salty fingers on his joggers. “You said you would be nice.”

“Harry.” Draco finished his popcorn, then wiped his own salty fingers on the leg of Harry’s joggers too, ignoring Harry’s irritated look. “I implied, indirectly, that I might _try_ and be nice.” He crunched another piece of popcorn with relish. “I promised nothing.”

Draco smiled, lips tilting up into that combination of a smirk and a grin that always got a reaction out of Harry; it used to be anger, ire, but since their tentative friendship had started, it seemed to pull a different feeling out of Harry. One that felt a bit hot, and blushy, and very bloody confusing. Harry was used to that by now, after spending last year stuck in the same dorm together at Hogwarts. He’d hated it at first, the forced inter house cooperation that Mcgonagall had instigated for the returning eighth years via blending all of the houses together. Of course he’d ended up stuck with Draco, and of course the stupid git had to walk around their shared space with half his kit off, mouthing off about everything. They'd had some fabulous rows, their insults growing more and more creative until Harry called Draco a ‘ _pompous, blond, spoiled beanpole who wouldn't be able to catch the Snitch if it was sitting on his lap doing a striptease_ ’ and Draco had, to both of their surprise, burst out laughing. 

It had been a slow and inevitable descent into friendship from there ― one which had carried on past Hogwarts, and into their training together as Aurors. 

Draco’s grin widened as Harry felt his cheeks flushing with heat. If he didn’t know better, he would say Draco was doing it on purpose, but that would mean Draco was _flirting_ with him, which was a concept Harry hitherto could not, or would not, comprehend. His brain and most likely his groin would not be able to take the strain of trying to process information like Draco _fancying_ him. Harry had enough trouble remembering that he himself wasn’t supposed to fancy Draco back.

It was especially hard to remember that fact when they were tucked up together on a two-man sofa, which was definitely not built with these two men in mind, given how squashed together they currently were. Harry was trying to pretend Draco’s warm thigh against his own didn’t make his heart thump and his cock start to fill out inside his usual lazy Sunday attire ― which consisted of a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and the world’s oldest, rattiest, ugliest and most comfortable pair of joggers. In comparison, Draco was wearing a buttoned up shirt and a pair of crisp, black trousers, which made him both seem impressively attractive and also entirely overdressed for this kind of occasion. Harry lifted one knee, trying to shield the view of his slightly tenting joggers, and the state he was rapidly finding himself in. 

Perhaps inviting Draco to Sunday Bad Movie night at Ron’s wasn’t that smart an idea after all. 

Harry cleared his throat, pulling the thin blanket down off the back of the sofa, and over his lap. Maybe that way no one would notice he was getting hard; perhaps through sheer force of will Harry himself could stop noticing it, too. He moved a little closer to the arm of the sofa, hoping to put some space between his leg and Draco’s expensive wool-clad thigh, but to no avail. It was almost as if Draco was moving closer to him, but surely Harry was just imagining that. Either way, it was bloody distracting. 

“And this is you trying to be nice, is it?” Harry said, after a moment, pulling his mind out of the gutter and their respective trousers. Draco’s smile turned tight.

“No, this is me complaining because your friends are having what appears to be an hour-long debate about what bloody Muggle _fillem_ or whatever the fuck it is we are going to watch.” Draco folded his arms. “Just flip a bloody coin!” he called out, in Ron and Dean’s direction. 

They paused mid argument, turning annoyed eyes to Draco ― before Ron looked at Dean thoughtfully. He weighed the two films in his hands ― Ron’s preference, ‘ _The Curse of The Mummy of Loch Ness Island: 3_ ’ and Dean’s suggestion, ‘ _The Notebook_ ’. Both sounded equally awful to Harry. 

“Hate to agree with old ferret-face here ―”

“ ― Charming, Weaselbee ―”

“But maybe we _should_ just flip a coin.” Ron scratched the back of his head with the corner of the film case. 

“Yeah, fine.” Dean stuck a hand into his pocket, fished out two gleaming knuts and what appeared to be a broken pencil. “Heads it’s your film, tails we watch my ― infinitely better, might I add ― suggestion.”

“You’re on.” 

The coin landed on the floor with a rattle, slowly spinning to a stop as Ron and Dean watched it avidly, and Harry wondered if it would be too weird to sit on the arm of the sofa, because seriously was it shrinking, or was Draco moving _closer_? Harry pulled the blanket more firmly over his lap, noticing Draco glance at his lap and then quickly look away. Harry blanched, hoping to Merlin that Draco hadn’t just clocked the state Harry was in, but if he had Draco didn’t seem put off; he looked slightly calculating, playful even. Harry’d seen that look before, on the not-so-infrequent times when Draco seemed to catch Harry checking him out, his eyes narrowing and his lips quirking as if there was something he wanted to say but wasn’t quite ready ― or sure if he should. Harry found it confusing, which summed up everything to do with his attraction to Draco. He always found ways to explain that look on Draco’s face, as well as the times Harry could have sworn he caught Draco checking him out in return. 

Right now, Harry told himself Draco was just smiling like that because they were finally going to watch something, ending Ron and Dean’s stalemate. 

“Ha _ha_!” Ron crowed, pointing in triumph at the coin, and then at Dean, whose mouth turned down unhappily. “Nessie of the pyramids it is!” 

“Best two out of three?” Dean tried. Ron, Draco, and Harry all groaned. 

“No, I won fair and square.”

“Merlin, will you two stop dragging this out?”

“Is it really hot in here, or…?”

The three other occupants of the room turned to look at Harry. “No?” Harry tried, feeling even hotter. “Right, so are we gonna watch something or not?” he mumbled after a moment, hoping to draw attention away from the state of himself and back onto the issue of what film they would be taking the piss out of this evening. It worked. 

“Yeah, just need the others to get here with provisions!” Ron said, with relish. “I am going to eat an entire bag of wine gums,” he announced, with the air and finality of a king decreeing the law of the land. 

“I still think my movie’s worse,” Dean griped, “and therefore we should watch that one.”

“Oh, give over, Dean.” Ron laughed. “You just want to watch it because you fancy Ryan Duckling.”

“It’s Gosling, and who doesn’t?” Dean flopped down onto the bean bag sulkily, Summoning his beer. He perked up when Seamus arrived with Luna, Ginny and a frankly appalling number of snacks. 

“Ginny!” Ron sat down on the arm chair on the other end of the room, long legs dangling over one arm. He grinned as Ginny threw him a packet of wine gums and a bag of crisps. “Have I ever told you you’re my favourite sister?”

“You’re an idiot,” Ginny said fondly, “and those’re to share.” She popped the cap on her beer and sat down heavily on a beanbag opposite Dean and Seamus, who were now making a valiant effort to both fit on one. It looked uncomfortable, and a little bit romantic. Well, Seamus seemed to think it was; Dean actually just looked a bit squashed, but not that unhappy about it. 

Harry shifted awkwardly on the sofa, unfolding his legs and letting them stretch out in front of him. Draco’s leg was still touching his, and he blinked in surprise when Ginny flicked her wand, causing the lights to dim as Ron pressed play. 

“We not waiting for Neville?” Seamus asked. 

“Nah,” Ron chewed loudly on a wine gum. “He’s out digging up some kind of nocturnal poppy in the arse end of Wales.”

“Hermione?” 

“Hunting poppies, too,” Ron added, slumping lower in his chair and smiling dopily. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Draco made a face, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “Be nice,” he mouthed, before Draco could say anything. Draco rolled his eyes, but magnanimously said nothing. Harry wasn’t sure if it was sweet or pathetic of him that he found that kind of endearing. Bloody hell, he needed to get a grip. 

He jumped a little when he felt Draco’s hand on his leg, but relaxed when he realised Draco was only pulling the blanket so it lay over his own lap as well. Harry let his breath out, a little louder than expected. There was no reason to be so jumpy. It was early Autumn, still a little chilly, and Draco was probably just cold. Clearly not everyone in the room was as bloody hot as Harry was, because not everyone was nursing half an erection, because _they_ were able to avoid getting turned on by the accidental brush of a hand against their sodding thigh. Which, well.

Harry blinked, then opened his mouth and shut it again. He felt his neck grow hot, rubbed two fingers absently over his collarbone as he tried to process what was happening. 

Because Draco’s hand was still on his leg. 

“This is a really awful, movie,” Ron said happily as the opening credits rolled. Ginny hummed in agreement. Harry’s eyes grew even wider as Draco’s hand slid a fraction higher up his leg. His mind raced as he tried to think of a reasonable explanation for this. Maybe Draco’s hands were cold, or he was worried Harry was going to get a cramp and was offering a light, friendly leg massage. He was ― Draco tightened his fingers, shoulder resting against Harry’s. Harry swallowed. 

Draco’s fingers slid a little higher up Harry's thigh. 

“I find it fascinating that the idea here is to deliberately watch a film you know you won’t enjoy,” Luna added, proceeding to eat a chocolate orange as if it were an actual orange. 

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as casually as he could, and then half turned to face Draco, keeping half his attention still on the screen. 

“What are you doing?” Harry whispered as quietly as possible while still making sound. Draco squeezed his leg, raising his brows innocently. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he whispered back, fingers trailing dangerously close to the growing shape of Harry’s erection. Harry opened his mouth, that soft smile still playing around Draco’s lips, but before Harry could reply, Ron threw an empty chocolate bar wrapper at them. 

“Oi, stop it you two!” He pointed at the screen, where a women was screeching as what looked like a large papier mache slug crossed with an eel slowly peeled away its bandages and emerged from an underwater Egyptian tomb. “You know the rules. If you haven't got anything rotten to say about the film, then don’t say anything at all.” He turned back to the screen. “Keep your canoodling to a quiet minimum.”

“We’re not _canoodl_ ―” Harry clacked his teeth closed as Draco squeezed his thigh, just this side of too hard. It made his cock jump against the soft grey material of his joggers, and he closed his eyes in mortification. When he opened them, Draco was looking at him intently. The light from the television cast hazy shadows as it flickered across his face, carving shapes under his cheekbones, under the fall of his hair. His expression was a mixture of playful and hopeful as he moved his hand just a fraction of an inch higher, fingers moving along the inner seam of Harry’s joggers, until they touched ― 

“Shit!” Harry hissed, sitting up straighter and nearly upending the bowl of popcorn onto the floor. 

“Are you all right Harry?” Luna asked, face smeared with chocolate and one of her jellyfish shaped earrings caught in her hair. 

“Yep.” Harry adjusted his glasses, then inadvertently spread his legs wider as Draco cupped him through the material of his joggers. “All g ― good here,” he croaked. “Just thought I saw a... moth,” he finished stupidly, then cringed. A _moth_? He felt Draco’s shoulders shake as he laughed, as he flexed his fingers against Harry’s now fully hard cock. Harry bit his lip, then breathed a sigh of relief when Luna looked back at the screen. 

He turned furious eyes on Draco, who had the nerve to only smile back sweetly. 

“ _Yes_?” he mouthed, looking as though Harry was politely yet inconveniently starting a conversation with him in the Ministry foyer. 

Harry’s jaw clenched. His cock twitched. On the screen, the mummified Loch Ness Monster roamed over the Great Moor of Rannoch, looking for its lost mate. 

“Draco,” Harry mouthed, then stopped, unable to think of a single sensible way to ask, ‘ _Excuse me, but is that your hand on my dick?’_. He settled for trying to communicate via blinked morse code. 

He suspected he might have been successful when Draco moved his fingers a fraction closer then away entirely. Draco worried his lower lip, eyes watching Harry's expression intently.

“ _Want me to stop_?” he mouthed, almost entirely silently. His thumb was resting against the inside of Harry’s leg, the rest of his fingers curved away. Harry looked at Draco, then back at the screen, then at the other occupants of the room, then back at Draco. Draco raised one eyebrow, then the other, beginning to pull his hand away entirely. 

Harry impulsively grabbed his wrist. 

He didn’t pull it closer, only kept it where it was, the meat of Draco’s palm almost touching the line of Harry’s dick, his fingers making little indentations underneath the blanket. His wrist felt sturdy, hot, in Harry’s hand, as Harry felt his heartbeat beginning to speed up at almost the same rate as he saw Draco’s smile slant from shaky and uncertain into an outright leer. Harry swallowed, throat suddenly dry; he listened to the sound of the film and the quiet laughter of Seamus, Ginny and Dean as Ron impersonated the heroine of the film as she fell into a lake while declaring her love for the mummified monster and somehow managing to twist her ankle in the process. 

_Oh, fuck it_ , Harry decided. He pulled Draco’s hand back between his legs, biting his lip on a groan as he felt long fingers cup the length of his prick. 

Draco’s teeth flashed, white and brilliant as he grinned, then slipped his hand underneath the material of Harry’s joggers.

“ _Have to be quiet_ ,” Harry mouthed. 

Draco lifted a brow sardonically. He raised the index finger of his free hand to his lips, quietly shushed Harry as he toyed with the hem of Harry’s pants, then dipped his hand underneath them. 

Harry pressed his lips together so tightly he suspected they were going white, then moved his own hand down to lift the waistband of his joggers and underwear away from his pelvis, to let Draco move his hand beneath it properly. 

Harry moaned as Draco slowly ran his fingers through the coarse thatch of Harry’s pubic hair, then pulled his cock free from his joggers. 

“Shhh,” Draco mumbled quietly, moving closer under the guise of pulling both socked feet up onto the sofa. “Have to be quiet.”

Harry pulled his foot up onto the sofa, pushing his hips up slightly into Draco’s palm and then bunching the blanket up enough that no one would likely see what they were doing. What Draco was doing to _him_. Harry swallowed, his neck hot and his face on fire. He suspected even his chest was blushing, his stomach. If anyone looked over, if they flicked the light on, they would instantly know something was up. Perhaps Harry could fake food poisoning, or ― he inhaled sharply, spreading his legs wider as Draco traced the length of his cock with his fingertips ― maybe Harry could pretend he had a sudden fever, or ― 

Harry pressed one hand over his mouth, smothering the sound as Draco moved his fingers slowly up the length of his cock. He pressed his palm hard over his lips, glancing at Draco sideways from under his fringe. Draco curled his fingers into a loose fist, moved it slowly up to the leaking head of Harry’s prick. Harry’s lips parted on a sigh. 

“ _Big_ ,” Draco mouthed, both brows raised in surprise as he moved his fist over Harry’s cock, pulling the foreskin back gently. 

“Wha ―” Harry closed his mouth, not trusting himself to finish that sentence. Draco laughed silently, at Harry’s reddening cheeks, enjoying his embarrassment. He leaned loser. 

“You are fucking big,” he whispered into Harry’s ear, breath lifting a curl of Harry’s hair. He tightened his fist to emphasise the statement and Harry made a strangled squeak against his hand. In the light of the television screen, Harry could see a slight flush on Draco’s cheeks, see the smile dancing over his lips, before Draco looked forwards once more. 

He began to move his hand in earnest. 

Harry’d had handjobs before. A few times with Ginny, in the brief time when they’d tried to feign some kind of sexual interest in each other while both covertly eyeing other people of the same gender. He’d been with guys, too, since then. Robert, from training, with the great legs and the awful facial hair, and Dominic from that new pub in Hogsmeade who had an amazing accent and who could do things with his tongue Harry hadn’t known were technically possible until they were happening to his lower half. 

What Draco was doing now ― roughly jerking him off in the confines of his joggers and under a blanket, while in the presence of some of Harry’s oldest friends ― was hardly the most polished, or even the most skilled handjob Harry’d had. Draco’s movements were awkward as he tried to pull Harry off quietly yet surreptitiously, moving his hand quickly while keeping his shoulder still and trying not to dislodge the blanket that was hiding what he was doing from view of the rest of the room’s occupants.

It was the best fucking handjob Harry’d ever had in his life. 

Harry shifted slightly, his arm aching from holding his waistband away from his hips. He felt his arm begin to shake slightly, as Draco bit his lip and concentrated on moving his hand over just the head of Harry’s cock in short, sharp movements. Harry blinked at the screen, breathing as evenly and as quietly as he could as his toes curled against the soft sofa cushion, as his balls tightened and drew up against his body. He slumped slightly against the back of the sofa, shoulders drawing in as he hunched over, as he felt the inevitable rush of his orgasm building. Harry stared forward, unseeing, as image after image flickered across the screen and Draco’s hand kept moving at that same steady pace. 

“What is she _doing_?” Ron laughed, as the heroine began to climb across a rickety bridge. 

Draco twisted his hand around the head of Harry’s cock. 

“Since when does Scotland have a jungle?” Ginny laughed over the soft _crack_ and _hiss_ as she opened another can of beer, then rested her foot against Luna’s. 

Harry shook his hair out of his eyes, biting his lip and struggling to keep his eyes open, to keep quiet as Draco moved his hand again, flicked his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock and ― _ahh!_ ― over the moisture collecting there. 

“Oh Merlin, why would the Loch Ness Monster suddenly be able to speak?” Seamus laughed. 

Harry pressed his hand tighter against his mouth, tasted the salt on his fingertips as Draco twisted his hand again, slid it down and then _up_ , and Harry felt his cock jerk and ― 

“And why would the monster sound like ―”

“ _Mnrgguhh_!” 

Harry shut both eyes, face red as he came in a warm rush over Draco’s fist, over the inside of the blanket and the waistband of his joggers. He held his breath, head spinning as Draco's hand stilled, the realisation of how loud Harry’d been just hitting him. Harry stared forward, cock still pulsing as the monster on the screen made a strangled gurgle and then sank back into the submerged pyramid in the Loch. Harry slowly turned to Draco, who was staring at him in flushed incredulity. 

“ _The fuck_?” Draco mouthed, squeezing Harry gently. Harry’s stomach muscles tightened as his cock pulsed one last time, his mouth falling open on a thankfully silent gasp. Draco moved his hand again, his expression almost delighted at the amount of noise Harry had just made. Harry flushed further, cock twitching again as his mouth went slack, his body lax and warm, sated, even as his brain went into panic mode. 

Harry shrugged at Draco, as well as he could while trying to melt into the sofa. They both turned back to the screen, eyes wide with panic and ― in the case of Draco’s hand and Harry’s groin ― rather sticky. 

They waited. 

“Ha!” Ginny shook her long hair away from her face, raising her beer at Harry without really looking at him. “That was actually a pretty good impression, Harry.”

“Yeah. Kinda sounded like a constipated Mandrake ―” Ron added. 

“With a cold,” Dean agreed, head resting on Seamus’s shoulder. 

“Or a rumbling Ringlefinch in heat,” Luna supplied, untangling a lollipop from her braid. The room fell silent as they all looked at her. 

“Yeah.” Seamus nodded. “Or a one of what Luna said. Good one, Harry.” He sighed, reaching out to try and drag a bag of crisps towards himself with his foot. “Well, spectacularly shit choice, Ronald.” Seamus grinned as he pulled the bag towards him. “You exceed expectations all round.” 

“That movie was awful,” Ron confirmed happily, as the end credits rolled. “But incredibly short.”

Harry sagged in relief, heart still thumping hard in his chest. “Yeah,” he swallowed, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt. “Totally awful.”

“Completely dreadful,” Draco cleared his throat, slowly releasing Harry.

Harry pressed his lips together to dampen any further embarrassing sounds as Draco's fingers let go of his over-sensitive prick. Now that he was slightly less mortified, he was vaguely offended that his friends thought he sounded like a constipated and/or a mummified cryptozoological being when he came. He was certain he was never going to hear the end of it from Draco, which to be honest, was making him feel a little bit giddy and stupid, because he was also a bit certain something like this might happen again ― if the way Draco was smiling at him was anything to go by. 

If the way Draco was wiping his sticky fingers on Harry’s t-shirt was anything to go by, though, Harry was definitely going to insist they do this somewhere where they could use a bloody cleaning spell. 

He grimaced at Draco, trying not to flush again when Draco laughed, high and happy, then patted Harry on the stomach. 

“Gross,” Harry mumbled, twisting his lips to keep the smile off of them. Draco made no such effort. 

“You liked it,” he whispered, leaning forwards. His eyes were gleaming with mischief, and with something else, and Harry bit his lip. He grinned, listening for the sharp intake of Draco’s breath as he slipped his own hand over Draco’s leg, and up to the line of ― 

Draco grabbed his wrist. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, cheeks turning a wonderful shade of pink. Harry tried to look innocent. It was hard, given he had a very sticky lap and was trying to feel up his training partner, but he deserved points for effort. Draco looked like he was trying not to smile. 

“Why not?” Harry whispered. “One good turn deserves another.”

“You are not wanking me in a room full of Gryffindors, Potter.” Draco’s mouth slanted into a grin. “Return the favour later,” he said, in a low rumble. “If you want to.”

Harry blinked, watching the way Draco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He could feel he was blushing again. “Like...At your place?” he mumbled, heart racing. 

Draco huffed a laughed. “No, in the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron.” He leaned closer, nose almost touching Harry’s. “Of course at mine,” he whispered. 

“Okay,” Harry croaked, his voice annoyingly breathy. Draco laughed, softly, looking entirely too composed for someone who was nursing a not-unimpressive erection. He slowly pushed Harry’s hand away, raising one eyebrow. 

Harry opened his mouth to say more, trying not to think too hard about how close Draco's face was to his own, or about what they could do back at Draco’s later this evening, when he saw Ron staring at them pointedly, arms folded.

“What are you two doing?” Ron asked suspiciously. 

“Canoodling,” Draco shot back quickly, slowly dragging his hand across Harry's thigh and back to his own lap. “Quietly, as requested. If that’s all right with you?”

Ron made a contemplative face, looking from Draco to Harry, then back to Draco. “Pass us the popcorn, yeah?” he eventually asked, appearing to reach the decision that he didn’t really care that Harry and Draco were pretzeled up on his stupidly small sofa. He grinned as Draco Levitated the bowl over to him. “You wanna choose the next film, Malfoy?” 

Dean sat up in indignation. “Oi, why does he get to choose ―”

“Because, Dean, no one wants to watch The sodding Notebook!” Seamus interrupted with a laugh. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco lay down, head against the armrest and legs over Harry’s ― rapidly cooling ― lap. “Let’s watch the one with the sexy goose person in it.” 

“The what?” Harry laughed, just about trusting his voice now. The front of his joggers were sticky, uncomfortable, and he really needed a cleaning charm. He wasn’t quite sure if there was any way he could do it without someone noticing or asking why, so he made a face at Draco instead. Draco only grinned back, stretching his legs out. 

“Notebook it is!” Dean said happily, shooting Draco an elated glance as he crawled towards the television. Draco rolled his ankles lazily, looking casual, but, Harry suspected, feeling more than a bit pleased with having both Ron and Dean’s friendly attention on him. 

And, presumably, with having made a right state of Harry's joggers as well. 

_Git_ , Harry thought, feeling that weird but not unpleasant surge of fondness in his chest. Harry waited a moment, then slowly wrapped his fingers around Draco’s ankle. He smiled lopsidedly, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as Draco hummed, then moved his legs even closer against Harry’s stomach.

Maybe inviting him wasn’t that bad an idea after all.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love! say hello to me on [tumblr](https://shiftylinguini.tumblr.com/) if you like xxx


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